Notes Abound
by Shadow Phantom
Summary: James Potter chases after a reluctant Lily Evans, Sirius Black teases him, Peter Pettigrew offers his help, and, as usual, Remus Lupin is the only one with any common sense.
1. Sept 28 Prefect's Meeting

Disclaimer: Um, the wackiness is ours, the characters, most certainly not.

Author's Note: This idea came up over IM with a friend, and was quickly put into action. Although note passing is by no means a new and innovative idea, we still found it hilarious. So, I thought, why not just post it. Written with the esteemed rosencrantz.

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Notes Abound

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Chapter One: Seventh year, end of September, correspondence between James Potter and Lily Evans during a Prefect's meeting

slid over to James, written on the top of the Meeting Agenda sheet: Stop fidgeting. We have to look professional.

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noted next to bullet on new school choir idea and ungraciously shoved back to Lily: Am only being charming self. Charming self needs not look professional, only charming.

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scribbled between reminders to not tell house elves to carry out your dirty work and the Forbidden Forest is off limits. Really.: Could you possibly be any more smug? Ruffling your hair and grinning at the girls so that they decide not to waste your time issuing complaints is not charming.

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half written over list of new outlawed Zonko's products: Am only grinning at the girls because I like to spread happiness, really. Their not issuing complaints is their own business. And my head itched.

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smashed into the corner next to next meeting's date: Don't give me that. Your hair care products would never allow a scalp such as yours to itch.

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on fresh expanse of the back of the paper: How do you know anything about my hair care? You've been sneaking looks at my dorm, have you? Ooh, against the rules and naughty. You _do_ want me.

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underneath James's comment: As much as I want to see Filch snogging his cat. The entire school knows about your hair care, oh wonderfully Mussed One. Although I must admit, am impressed with your choice of shampoo.

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scratched out quickly & messily: I tested many brands and settled on only the best. Am sure you use only the best on your lovely hair, as it deserves. PS: Had no idea you were into bestiality. Appalling, yet kinky.

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halfway finished: Am running low on shampoo actually, if you'd like

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scribbled in corner, shoved under table to hide from prying eyes, then passed under table: If I'd like to wash your hair? Buy you more? Would do anything for you, red-haired vixen.

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slipped into James's pocket, while Lily is pretending to pay attention to fifth year Hufflepuff: Is your shampoo gender safe? That is to say, could a female use it safely and without worrying that she's using a male's product?

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passed to Lily while pretending to stretch: There's a difference when it comes to shampoo? I had no idea. You must tutor me privately in the secret ways of shampoo as I am obviously vastly undereducated.

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left on top of James's agenda when Lily takes his quill: Well, a boy can't go around with rose scented hair, now can he? And a girl can't go around smelling like a boy unless this smell happens to be on a sweater or scarf borrowed from him.

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pushed halfway to Lily as if looking under other papers: The shampoo would in fact be borrowed, so therefore appropriate. Though I see that you wouldn't want just anyone to know of our shared shampoo, in case they believe we share much more than that like I'd like them to think. It smells like. Um. I can't smell my own hair right now. You smell it.

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is passed behind back while standing in front of James, as new trust game is explained: Smell your hair? In the middle of a meeting? p.s. Any suggestions on how to make it look like an accident?

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deliberated over while trust game starts with fifth year prefects, tucked into Lily's hand: Volunteer to stand behind me and catch me, then help me up and boom, there's your chance. Plus then you don't have to worry about me catching you and feeling you up. Not that I would. I respect you. It's just something you might think I might do, that's all.

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dropped down the back of James's shirt a few minutes after impressive display of catching and discreet hair smelling: Methinks he doth protest too much. That shampoo is appropriately female. May I borrow some?

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folded and passed in guise of origami frog hopping along table, caught deftly by Lily with a faux-reproachful look: I was simply confused and starved as always for your attention. Will bring some down for you as soon as we're back in the dorms. Unless you'd like to come up and get it?

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tucked in between right arm on James's glasses and sideburn: Oh yes, I'd love to go romping into the boy's dormitory late at night, completely forsaking school policy. Am not concerned with things like position or rules that I enforce. Meeting in the common room will work just fine.

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slid boringly across table under Lily's hands: Didn't have to be late at night. Fine, yes, common room. Tonight, then?

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wrapped around end of James's borrowed quill: Yes, right after the meeting. I'd like to get clean before the day is up.

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stuck around Lily's wrist with a Stickus spell: Done deal. Now we are Shampoo Mates and have a special bond. 3

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handed over during final handshake: That is much more disturbing than it should be. Kindly refrain from hearts in the future. Thank you.

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Follow-up:

When James brings the bottle of shampoo to where Lily is waiting in her girlish splendor, he hands her a small box of Honeydukes' chocolate and grins hopefully. "No hearts!" he says.

"No extra calories either," she replies regretfully, taking the shampoo, but gently handing the box of chocolate back.


	2. Sept 29 Morning Class

Disclaimer: Um, just, no. Although, once again, the wit remains ever truthfully ours.

Author's Note: I figured I'd issue a warning that pretty much this entire chapter is ridiculous and insane. There are multiple conversations going on at once, although it should be a little easier with the little key. So, here's question posed. Rosencrantz is James and I am Lily. Who do the other Marauders belong to?

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James

Sirius

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Remus

Peter

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Lily

September 29th, day after Prefect's Meeting, discussion between Marauders during class

from James, tucked into Remus's notes on properties of rosemary, read & taken by Sirius: Am wallowing in a deep pit of misery, yet feel oddly buoyant. Help, am confused.

slid back, wedged between pages of textbook: Didn't know was possible to feel two things at same time. Have you finally admitted to second personality?

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flicked viciously at Sirius's ear: Git. When in love one feels a thousand emotions. You, obviously, have never been in love and do not understand.

thrown back in direction of James's eye, but rebounds harmlessly off glasses lens: Obviously, I understand that falling in love makes one an idiot and a mess of feelings. Possibly a female as well.

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tossed at Sirius, hits chair and lands at Remus's feet: Am not female! Am all man, and have much proof.

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written twice and thrown at both Sirius and James: Glad to know the gender of my friends, I was beginning to doubt. Note: Why haven't you charmed some parchment to exchange messages so as to avoid throwing paper constantly, Mssrs. Top Of Class?

thrown at Remus's back, out of spite: It's more exciting and daring this way, that's why. Besides, you might never have known of James's manliness otherwise.

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flicked neatly over shoulder, landing in center of Sirius's desk: I don't fancy paper cuts in unusual places such as my ear due to your eager note-passing, much less hearing you complain about them. And considering James paraded about the dorm in naught but his socks and a cape not last week, his "manliness" is quite well known on my part.

folded to a point and poked into Remus's back multiple times: That was not James. That was Naught but Sock and Cape Man.

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stuck in a book and dropped on Sirius's foot: Was James. You wrote it on his chest and shoved him out the door whilst laughing. You evil mastermind.

stuck in same book and unceremoniously stuck between back of seat and Remus's back: Wanker.

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dropped on floor and kicked back: No, that was you. Last night.

to James on charmed parchment: Would somebody who was "all man" as you say, have spent two hours last night eating chocolates and moaning?

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surprised, on same parchment: Took his advice, no more flicking paper round like madmen? Hmph. What sort of chocolate, and what volume of moaning, exactly?

scribbled out so barely legible: Better than getting caught. I don't know, you stupid prat, you were the one eating the chocolate.

stuck down the back of Remus's robes: For one so mild mannered and polite, such a suggestion is met with disbelief. Am appalled you would say such things.

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To James, on Sirius's parchment, kicked deftly from his desk: Worry not, any man that moans over chocolate is a man indeed. Sirius doesn't understand.

To Sirius, charmed to fly down his trousers: Polite this. Oh, look, got your hand down your trou again!

is politely slid across floor to rest at Remus's feet: Mssr. Padfoot suggests that Mssr. Moony takes careful time this evening to make sure his will is satisfactory.

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dropped on floor again: Mssr. Moony has had will written since age 7 on certain advice, and revises every year, not that Mssr. Padfoot really needed to know that. Not that Mssr. Moony's life is in danger this night, as the name he heard from Mssr. Padfoot's bed was rather familiar, ha ha ha.

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flicked at Sirius's head, from James: You are both ignoring my great and epic life. I'm very put out by this. Exiting conversation now, enjoy your happy little canine world. Pass on to Remus. Self-absorbed berks.

passed on dutifully to Remus, with comments scrawled across bottom: Have feeling that James needs to be reminded, that in fact sun does not revolved around him, but me. ps: Maybe not death, but very dangerous blackmail.

held behind back for Peter to grab: Make James feel better and listen to him.

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on Sirius's charmed parchment, after stealing James's and putting it in front of Sirius: Best way to notify him of that is to duly ignore him. It will take practice, as his head often takes up one's entire field of vision, but we can do it. PS: We can blackmail each other equally, so I feel your threats are rather empty.

written back, accompanied by a very sketchy, yet unmistakably lewd face: My threats are never empty, Moony, my friend.

From Peter tossed with surprising accuracy onto James's desk: Hullo, what's all this about then?

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after adding a moustache and subsequently crossing out said face: So you claim, yet I remain unconcerned. Perhaps if you threatened me with something truly horrifying, such as a charm that would stick your chattering self to my side for an entire uninterrupted day, thus causing me to lose my blessed time of peace, then I might be concerned.

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tossed dejectedly onto Peter's desk, falling into his lap: Obviously none of you love your dear friend James and want to hear of his minor conquest and minor failure of last night.

this time writing accompanied by a pair of lips: Liar. If forced to stay at my side without leaving for an entire day would simply die halfway through from sheer happiness. Is I who would have to live through library visits and obscene amounts of tea.

thrown back, with accuracy for a second time, landing neatly on top of James's notes: I asked you last night what the matter was and you told me to bugger off.

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written in a circle for no apparent reason: You wouldn't notice the library or tea, should either happen, as you would be too busy ruffling my hair and poking my scars and talking about the next moon and complaining about how James has Quidditch and Head Boy duties and in general making worse run-on sentences than this fine example.

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crumpled up and tossed back, caught neatly by Peter: I was tired. Sorry, mate. Takes at least twelve hours to process any exciting events with my One True Love to the point of discussion.

written in neat, straight lines, and correct penmanship: Yes, but that happens everyday, so no reason is seen that would suggest being charmed to my side would be any different than yesterday, today, or tomorrow.

third times proves to be a charm as, once again, Peter's aim is impeccable: I suppose the stomachache from all that chocolate would be rather distracting. Forgiven. Am open to discussion about said One True Love.

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just plain written: This is true, as you do seem to follow me around a curious amount. Not that I'm completely complaining. PS: I lied, I heard no wanking, just a lot of snoring. About as bad, as that doesn't tend to stop.

written diagonally, just because: Members of the Esteemed Family Black do not snore. However, this will be overlooked as someone has just admitted to enjoying my company.

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kicked along ground to Peter: Do you think sharing shampoo but rejecting a gift of chocolates is a good sign? I mean, shampoo! But, chocolates! I'm torn.

hits the side of James's arm, instead of desk, and lands at his feet: Lily is sharing your shampoo? Who does that?

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on charmed parchment: Like you would know if you snore. And I admitted to not complaining about your company, but if you want to take it as enjoyment, feel free. Note: I have a surplus of Sugar Quills in my trunk, and am personally quite sick of them. Up for a trade?

excitedly, if writing can be described as such: For my mounds of chocolate frogs? When can trade be executed? ps: I can see the enjoyment leaking from your every pore.

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launched in a makeshift catapult of quill/ink bottle combination: Lily Evans, apparently. I was surprised too, but not about to complain. Offered to wash hair for her, but she declined understandably. We are not quite that close, though I thought it worth a try.

sent back, in an empty Bertie Bott's box: Perhaps by the end of the year. Head Boy and Girl must get to know each other very well, after all. Perhaps she is on a diet?

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as straight faced as handwriting gets: No. In exchange for being my personal sex slave for one night. Trade after lunch, before Independent Study. Will take IOU. PS: Enjoyment does not leak from pores.

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flicked back quickly: End of year? How about Hols? Halloween? Surely no girl is on a diet come Halloween. Perhaps should try a different gift. Suggestions?

reply made quickly: Only had to ask. Trade not necessary to become your sex slave. However, will not ask you to take it back as I will gain Sugar Quills from the deal. ps: Yes it does. I can see it.

thrown underhand: Not as much of ladies' man as Sirius, but I would suggest sonnets. Even badly written ones are still appreciated. Idea: Maybe she is on a diet so she can eat as much as she wants at the feast.

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after long moment staring at paper: I will end up being your Sugar Daddy, and all will end in ruin as I am very poor. It's a good thing you would be my sex slave for no greater reason than pure lust for my artistically scarred body, as that is all I have to give.

without pause: And what a gift it is.

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tossed lightly: Perhaps after class I will ask Sirius what he used on his parchment. You might have to refresh me on sonnets, or perhaps Remus if he's not too busy with Sirius. RE diet: Makes no sense. Girl needs no diet, is absolutely perfect and could even gain three hundred pounds and be an angel.

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scribbled quickly: Insert lewd look here. Imagine the things I could do with my werewolf strength and stamina. PS: On second thought, please don't, as it would be embarrassing for you to be in class in such a condition.

actually passed along instead of thrown: Read lots of Shakespeare and try to copy what he says. I don't know much about sonnets. About Diet: Yes it makes sense. Girls are often under impression that they weigh too much. Maybe let her know that even if she was four hundred pounds you would still date her.

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flicked along floor: Will read Shakespeare and tear Remus away from his books and his pet dog sometime today. Diet: Conclusive proof that girls are insane. Yet irresistible.

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passed discreetly to Lily: Darling Shampoo Mate: Would still be passionately in love with you no matter what your girlish reason for refusing my chocolate, such as ludicrous idea that it would cause you to gain any unseemly weight, as your eyes are your best feature anyhow. Please reconsider, am dying to shower you with chocolate and sweets and other tokens of my love.

written in form of heart: I'm afraid that's all I think about all the time, Moony. That's why I feel the need to take out frustrations on so many unsuspecting girls.

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scrawled uncreatively: Odd how I haven't seen you have one date this year. So it seems you were right, and Black's don't snore, but use the sound of snoring to mask more unacceptable activities. Perhaps we should work to help you over these feelings for me in whatever way we can, as you obviously are suffering.

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handed back to James with same discreetness: Slightly Mad, Yet Slightly Endearing Co-Head Person: Am grateful you value my eyes, as last night's shampoo discussion might suggest otherwise. Am also flattered, though disbelieving that your love is quite so strong as to survive unseemly amounts of weight. I do not wish to receive showers of gifts if they are not being returned in your direction. Which I am afraid they won't be.

also written in an unforgivably normal fashion: As has been said many times in the past, you are much too smart for your own good. However, I'm afraid that feelings must be avoided, because, unlike James, I am all man, and terrified of any feelings I might be experiencing.

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charmed to flutter like a butterfly: Am slightly endearing? This puts me on the cloud that comes after eight. It is obvious how highly I value every bit of you, since the bit I don't value the most was so highly praised previously and forever. Your disbelief wounds me, as I am sincere. Lastly, the point of gifts is not to be returned, but to simply be bestowed on the gift-ee with no ulterior motive but the gift-ee's happiness. I will persevere.

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folded into fourths and passed secretly to James: I trust you will. However, if you could please wait until we are not in class, it would be greatly appreciated, as I plan on learning today. Please do not fall down to cloud five, you might bump your head.

written in what seems to be quite the style, boringly: And thus is why you love me so. It is not just on a physical level, and is obviously the reason for your terror. As far as being all man, though they say opposites attract, they also claim two is better than one. An interesting paradox, and one you will have to deal with alone as I am not ready to take the next step into a torrid love affair with one of my best mates.

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kicked rather eagerly back to Peter: On cloud nine! Said I am slightly endearing and trusts I will give her more gifts! Am going to act like I am paying attention, think it might look good in her eyes, as it is what she plans on doing. Sonnet research tonight!

accompanied by little penned teardrops: You've broken my heart in two before I've even given it to you, you beast. Two is often most better than one, but only if said one is not Sirius Black. Do not fear, will do best to hold back wall of love and reserve it for people who are not best mates, or in fact, more than strangers.

flicked neatly into James's lap: I guess I'll stop writing you then. We'll head to the library as soon as possible.

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with a scrawled heart in two pieces: Use Spell-o-tape. Perhaps one day I will be ready for torrid affair, but today is not that day. Until then, the standard two Quills for each Frog? Rather than five quills for every sexual favour, as I had planned. I do not wish to toy with your emotions if I can avoid it, as I care about you deeply. (As platonic friends, mind.)

written in the form of Spell-o-tape: Sounds reasonable to me, although much more will be sacrificed for a satisfactory amount of Quills. My emotions have already been toyed with sufficiently from your teasing notes, and have finally settled back down in the toy box for now.


	3. Sept 29 Evening, in the library

Disclaimer: Shakespeare sonnets and cumming's poems most certainly do not belong to us in any way shape or form.

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James

Sirius

Peter

Chapter Three: In the library that evening, a discourse started between James and Peter

slid over to James on the top of a fresh sheet of parchment: Do you know how to write a sonnet yet?

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below Peter's note: Not at all. Have found book of sonnets and am thinking of stealing-- borrowing one.

accompanied by a _'hmmmm'_: Do you think she would notice if you simply lifted one? Maybe Lily reads and loves sonnets all the time and would be able to tell in a moment if you copied one and as a result would hate you forever.

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referencing book briefly, and sighing: Would she notice "Thine eyes I love, and they, as pitying me,/Knowing thy heart torments me with disdain,/Have put on black and loving mourners be,/Looking with pretty ruth upon my pain." Is very appropriate, I think. She'd appreciate the thought, I'm sure.

after a moment's hesitation: Am very impressed with pretty phrases. I think if you let her know that you know that the sonnet's not yours she would love it.

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scrawled after deliberation: Must choose very carefully. Not sure what the rest of that sonnet means, and may have to continue searching. Of course would never pass it off as mine! She knows the only poems I can write are vulgar, referencing naughty bits.

being the supportive friend he is: I'm sure if you tried you could write her a nice enough poem. You know, even if it was horrible. Note: Sonnets have fourteen lines

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wrinkling nose in distaste: I know they have fourteen lines, am not utter failure. Must admit: cannot rhyme except with certain aforementioned naughty bits.

shaking head as he writes: Not true. I give you the line, "Your eyes are inviting as a warm summer's day..." and you give me the line...

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pushing books about while writing: ..."Which reminds me I wouldn't mind a lay." I'm hopeless! I can't say that to her. PS: What's this bloke with all lowercase? And no rhyming.

glancing through the book: You had me thinking you really were romantic until that. Sirius's influence has obviously done something to your mind. ps: e.e. cummings. Another Muggle. His stuff is quite interesting.

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staring at Peter in amazement before writing: You know me not. Sirius did nothing to me. He has stolen mine glory of perverseness. Which exactly what I'm trying to hide, actually. And this Cummings bloke is insane. This r-p-o-p-h-e-s-s-a-g-r thing makes no sense.

note tossed over James's shoulder, and landing neatly in his lap: Hullo Prongsie, best mate! How goes the manly search for poetry?

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flicked backward: I'm not speaking to you, you not-carer-about-my-epic-battle-for-love. You don't love me anymore.

dropped on the table as Sirius walks casually by pretending to look for a book: You insult me! Of course I love you. You're like a brother to me. And everybody knows that we are required to love brothers very deep down. How is the broad, anyway?

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tucked into Sirius's pocket as he passes again: You just want to get into my pants, is what you mean by 'deep down'. And she's not a broad. She is a beautiful woman, full of kindness and verve and wit.

thrown at James, folded into the shape of a heart: First Moony, and now you. Why have I all of a sudden become a creature lusting after best mates? I'm quite sorry, didn't mean to insult the missus. How is the beautiful woman then?

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pushed into Sirius's collar: Pardon? Last six years, it was you making those comments, and suddenly you're offended when they're turned around. Something changed this summer that you didn't let me in on. Beautiful woman is lovely and beautiful as always. Red hair especially shiny and soft from my shampoo. I know, as she let me feel its softness as it is my shampoo anyway.

heading at top of paper consists of giant question mark: Who? Me? I simply tell the truth, James mate. Can't help it if you want me so. Beautiful woman let you feel her hair as a result of shampoo sharing? Why did you not tell me about this? V. interesting development.

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scratched rather roughly into paper out of frustration: I did not _tell_ you because you would not _listen_. Tried to tell you, had to tell Peter. This is what you miss when you-- Wait, first Moony? Processing is slow when woman is on the mind. Do I want to know?

sent back in due time: That was this morning during class then, when was admitted you needed mental help. I told Peter to talk to you, so really should be thanking me for Peter's help. Moony seems to think I harbor deep seeded feelings for him. Ridiculous. Just because I admitted I worshipped him. Don't know where he comes up with such ideas.

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stuck in Sirius's ear: Do not need mental help. Would have gone to Peter in the end in any case. RE Remus: Possibly the fact that you stare at him occasionally and begin drooling gives him ideas. Would get that checked.

dropped neatly in middle of book of cummings: Yes, but happened more quickly this way, therefore was helpful on my part. About Moony: the drooling is merely a condition of becoming a dog. Can't help it.

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passed underhand: You're just making excuses. Don't see me freezing when bright lights are shone in my face. Rather, I blink and hit whoever is shining said light, as blindness is uncomfortable.

to Peter: Think I am going to attempt to write some sort of something on my own, but in the glorious outdoors. Don't tell Padfoot where I've gone.

back to James: Right. Good luck.


	4. Oct 1 An Awkward Conversation in Ancient...

Disclaimer: Uh, the non-understanding between boys and girls has lasted forever, and certainly was not created by us.

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Chapter Four: A conversation in Ancient Runes class between Remus and Lily

"Remus, could I talk to you about something?" Lily asks, looking up from the sheet she has been dutifully scribbling out notes on for the past fifteen minutes.

He pauses in his own notes, faintly surprised. "Of course. What is it?"

"Well..." she hesitates, not quite sure how to phrase her question. She briefly considers backing out, but, this is Remus, he's not threatening in the least. "It about James," she says finally.

"Well, yes, I expected as much. What about him?" he asks. He hopes she says something like 'He charmed a bullfrog to sing my praises as I walk the halls' for entertainment's sake, though he can clearly see this hasn't happened.

"Has he actually matured?" she asks. "I mean, I know that he's serious enough about his duties. Enough so not to torment me with proclamations of love when things need to be done." She sits there for a moment, tapping the quill against her lips, trying to figure how to be more specific. "Is he still the same as he was last year and the year before?"

"Erm," Remus answers. He looks away, scratching the side of his nose. When he begins to feel awkward for not answering, he decides to answer as truthfully as he can. "Is anyone ever the same every year?" He pauses, and thinks, and starts again. "He's always had a mature side. It's just that, maybe, he didn't want you, or anyone else, to see it."

A frown forms across Lily's features, and a look of disappointment is apparent in her eyes. "So he pretends to be an egotistical prat with perfectly disheveled hair that doesn't care about anything because he thinks people will like that side of him better?"

"No! No, that's not it. I've said it wrong. Um." Agitated by his mistake, Remus runs a hand through his hair and scratches the back of his head, trying to form an answer in his head before letting it slip through his lips. "It's not that he thinks people will like that side _better_. More--" _that they actually seem to_-- "he's afraid they won't like him if he doesn't parade his best qualities. And it's not pretending, or perfectly disheveled." Remus looks up at Lily. "You can't let on to James that I've said any of this. It could be complete bollocks anyway."

The look on Lily's face clearly reads,_ I doubt it. _"Well, I won't say anything to him, but you should let him know that he shouldn't care about what other people think, and that should be quite good enough for himself." Then she adds, "You know, I've often wondered why you choose to be friends with James Potter and Sirius Black, but just occasionally, I could see how you get along with James."

"You don't see them the way I get to see them," he says, simply and looking down at his paper. He scratches out and corrects a line of his notes, unable to think of anything to add.

Silence descends again as quills scratch against paper. "Do you think he would be angry with me if I told him I bought my own bottle of shampoo?"

Remus stares at her. "Why-- Oh, right. Sirius mentioned something about that in his steady flow of chatter on the way to breakfast. He wouldn't be angry. Disappointed, maybe."

"Hmm, I thought so." There is a struggle taking place inside Lily's head. It seems that she's about to touch on something important, however, it's not really her area, now is it? Remus is happy with his friends, such an intelligent and logical person would never remain friends with the same people for six years just _because_. "Well, I'll just prepare myself for his heartbroken protests then."

'Might be surprised,' he doesn't say, thinking of James's secretive breaks sitting in the fading autumn sunlight scribbling on paper and denying the book in his hand is poetry. "Yes, you'd better. He's only getting more creative over the years, albeit less publicly dramatic."

Something that could almost be called worry flickers its way across Lily's face. "I thought he'd have given up by now," she says. "It's becoming a shame to disappoint just because of the effort he puts into coming up with new ideas."

"Ah, but you're stretching his creative boundaries by consistently pushing him away. If you don't stop him soon, though, I fear this creativity will begin to leak out his ears," Remus replies, trying not to imagine what that would look like. He fails, and grins.

Lily smiles back. "That would be a thing to see. I suppose I'll just have to maintain my position now. It will be interesting to see what he resorts to before the ear leaking."

"Probably something unspeakable that you would be torn between enjoying and abhorring." Remus pauses. "Really, you don't dislike him, or if you do you hide it well. Why keep up the cold shoulder act for so long? He really does try."

There's that caught look on Lily's face that says she has a reason, but isn't quite sure how to put it into words, or even why she does it herself. "I know he does, that's why it's so difficult. But really, what do I know about him? I'm forced to ask one of his friends if he's matured at all? It doesn't seem like those are positive circumstances with which to be starting a relationship."

"A date is not a relationship. A date, even if it were a relationship, does not constitute spending the rest of one's life together. The _purpose_ of a date, a relationship, is to learn about the other person! If you wait until you know enough about someone, it just doesn't make _sense_!" Remus says, feeling exasperated. He's not quite used to dealing with girls' minds, and his eye is threatening to twitch. He rubs it half-heartedly. "And you could try asking _him_."

"Waiting to decide whether or not you want to date somebody is a very - you know what? I don't think I'll bother to explain it. Boys just don't seem to understand this very simple logic." Now it's her turn to feel slightly frustrated. "You know, there's a difference between a harmless date, and leading somebody on with a date who may or may not love you endlessly."

Remus blinks slowly. "If this is truly how all girls think, I don't want to ever date again." He doesn't know where to begin without leading into a diatribe that could last for the rest of class, so he opts to change the subject, as it often works on Peter and sometimes even Sirius and James. He looks at his notes for inspiration and is disappointed. "Erm. What do you think of the new Gobstones Enthusiasts Club? It seems like a good hobby."

Lily raises an exquisite eyebrow. "If you were sick of hearing me talk about this, you could have just said so. I may share many things with other girls, but I understand that we were breaching important subject matter." A brief pause to consider matters. "I know you're going to see James before me. Could you tell him I'd like to meet him in the common room immediately following dinner?" Then, with a smile she says, "It seems like a terrible hobby. What would they do at their meetings? Sit around and talk about their new set, and the matches they've won? It's not healthy, if you ask me."

"But," he starts, feeling stopped up and stupid again. "It's not the subject-- We were-- I'll tell him." He doesn't bother acknowledging her comment about Gobstones, insulted without any good reason by it, and tucks his paper into his book. After a long silent pause where Remus can feel Lily looking at him, he adds quietly, "It's just frustrating, that's all."

"What?" Lily asks. "The Gobstone's Enthusiasts club? Or are we on the same subject again?"

"It's a completely different subject altogether." Remus stops, leaning heavily on the table with his hand on the back of his head again, thinking. "You've no idea how frustrating it is to talk to someone when everything they say makes you feel like you've just said something wrong, so you want to defend yourself. But you don't really want to put up the effort because class only lasts so long and you could try to explain yourself the rest of the day and not quite get anywhere. There."

"Ah," Lily says wisely. "This is the reason that you don't talk to girls much, then? Too irrational for you. Well, that's all right, we'll just have to stick to subjects like Ancient Runes." Sensing the bell is about to ring, she says her next sentence quickly. "I do know how that is, you've never met my sister." Then, "Sorry, I do really like you quite a lot."

"It's got nothing to do with gender," he says, a little defensively. "And thanks."


	5. Oct 1 Meeting in the Common Room

Disclaimer: Nothing is ours. Sadly.

Note: Back for another chapter after forever? I believe it is an early Christmas miracle! I know that this is another chapter of talking instead of notes, but those will continue again especially considering new developments. Please, enjoy!

_Chapter Five: Dialogue between Lily Evans and James Potter the evening of October 1st in the common room: directly after dinner_

"Have you been waiting long?" Lily asks, approaching the crackling fireplace in the Gryffindor common room. James Potter is staring into the fire, rocking back and forth on his heels.

"Just got here," he lies, blinking away the bright light of the fire and looking at her. James smiles in what he hopes is a winning way and bows a little. "How may I be of service, sweet lady?" He figures laying on thick, if nothing else, usually makes her smile a little.

Lily does smile a little. James is sweet in an odd sort of way, and she hopes that he didn't bound up the stairs the minute Remus told her about the scheduled meeting. "I would like your esteemed opinion on an important topic," she tells him.

"I am an expert on many things," he says, looking down in feigned embarrassment as if this admission is stripping away his humility. Well. As if he had an excess of humility in the first place. "What is it?"

"Dating," she says. Lily pauses for a short time as if expecting a bomb to drop nearby. "I trust you have a great deal to say on this subject?"

James blinks, but he catches himself before he can show a more severe reaction to her response. He runs his hand through his hair, scratching the back of his head idly. "I could wax poetic on it for some time, yes."

Suddenly, Lily feels as if her idea is actually quite an idiotic one. She wonders how to form her next phrase. "Remus told me something quite interesting earlier today in Ancient Runes."

"He did," James says. He's trying not to plot ways to punish Remus, depending what interesting thing was said. He's trying to just nod encouragingly. "What was that?"

"That I should try asking you something I was trying to get out of him. He said a date did not constitute a relationship, but rather was a way to get to know each other." She stops and breaths, although something inside her is pushing for hyperventilation. "What do you think?"

James barely suppresses snorting--not out of amusement, but surprise. "He's right. I mean, what about blind dates, or when you meet someone and hit it off, but you'd never see the person again? Unless you ask them on a date, that is. Friendship alone is great," he says, speaking too quickly for his brain to stop his candor, "friendship like we have, but dates are different."

"Well, I mean, exactly what is our friendship?" Lily asks. She then holds up her right hand, and puts her left one against her forehead. "No, don't answer that, I don't want to get into that. How about this. Do you understand that if I agreed to a date with you, it would be just a date? You understand there's no guaranteed kiss, or romance, or future dates?"

He had laughed a little when she withdrew her first question. When she finishes speaking, he tilts his head to the side, wondering if it'd be pushing it to touch her hand when he answers. "That's fulfilling the number three wish on my list. It's all I could ask," he says, not moving.

The feeling that started in the pit of Lily's stomach when she began talking, starts to get stronger. Her resolve quails slightly. "Are you sure?" she asks. "I really like, I mean I don't mind, no, I want to make sure you don't get crushed. From what I've witnessed your infatuation has grown to almost epic proportions. Promise me you understand."

"I'm resilient. I've been crushed by many things in my life, and I spring back, much like the mossy grass that grows on that hill by the lake, or my own hair." James pushes his glasses on his nose with a knuckle, then holds up his index finger between their faces. "One date, no promises."

Lily has to admit, James is taking the whole thing with much more maturity than she had expected. One date, no promises. It sounds like quite the deal. If his hopes do happen to be flattened, at least his hair will remain cheerfully mussed. "I think you have yourself a deal, Potter." Or, at least, that's what she means to say. Instead, that feeling in her stomach proves to be something that isn't doubt. "Oh no, James, I'm..." sorry? mortified? ready to die? She looks weakly at the vomit on his shoes and cannot for the life of her come up with something to say.

"Bloody--" James starts, jumping back a little. Lily looks like she wants to crawl under the couch. As he slips his wand out of his sleeve, he searches his mind for any sort of cleaning spell his mother used at home. On instinct, he puts an arm around Lily and_ accios _a glass of water. He's completely channeling his mother, he thinks. "Are you alright?"

"I..." Lily wants to tell him that she's fine, but that is clearly not the case. "I'll buy you new shoes," she says. What kind of statement is that anyway? Her stomach churns threateningly again.

"Forget my shoes. Do you want to go to the Hospital Wing? I don't know any anti-nausea charms, but I know the quickest route there," he says, thinking of Remus. James rubs her back and continues, wincing even as he says it. "And I could conjure, er, a bag or something?"

"A bag, yes," she agrees. Even taking secret (and most likely illegal) passages will not be fast enough. "The Hospital Wing would probably be wise too." She leans against James, feeling utterly delirious. "I ruined your shoes though."

He conjures a bag and, thinking of his mother again, a cool, damp towel, offering her both. "Let's go," he says, helping her up. "And I said forget the shoes. I've got other pairs."

Lily takes the bag, and soon uses it. She feels pitiful, but there is no way she can make it anywhere on her own and James is being so helpful and not disgusted, that her embarrassment dies down some. Walking proves to work best when she lets James do most of it. "That's a very nice pair you have there." Lily wonders if a sudden attack of fever causes the brain to become fixated on something inane, or if she just really likes James's shoes.

"Got them in a muggle shop in London," James says. He wonders, while escorting her along the halls, whether it is sort of sick that he's enjoying holding her close. "Just a bit further." He decides it's probably not.

"You've been to a muggle shop?" Anything, anything at all to keep her mind off her sickness, and the thought that James is really decent. He points out the door of the Hospital Wing to her, and smoothes back her hair. Maybe more than just really decent.

"Yeah," he tells her, although he is slightly bewildered by her sudden fixation on his feet. Perhaps when she gets well again they can share things besides shampoo. "I like to try and pass off as one, although as far as I can tell they're mostly insane."

"Never a sane moment, no," she agrees. Although the conversation she and James have just had is less than coherent. "Thanks," she says, "you're a saint, James Potter." Aware that she must rather revolting, she opts for squeezing his hands instead of a hug or (Merlin forbid) a kiss.

"If you're not back in the tower tomorrow," James promises, "I'm stopping by here to check on you. I'm working my way from sainthood to full out angel." He squeezes her hands back, and lets her slip out of sight before he turns to head back to the tower.

Although Madam Pomfrey has been known to work miracles, Lily doubts very much that she will be able to do anything the next day but lay about and feel pitiful. Lily watches James turn and feels like she has to say something before he leaves. After all, he's been more than sweet. "When I'm better, what do you say we go back to that store and I get you new shoes?" she suggests. The shoes. Lily wouldn't be surprised if he became sick just from mention of his footware so many times.

James pauses and turns back to look at her, a grin crossing his face. He nods once. "But is that the date, or an outing as just friends?" He hopes it's the latter, but would really go for either.

"Shoe shopping as a date? I'm making up for your kindness, not moving in with you. Besides, I expect you to do all the paying when it's a date." She smiles at him, but doesn't dare risk anything more than that.

"Not just shoe shopping, but a trip into deepest London. Full of adventure and Londoners and who knows what else." He steps forward, closer to her again, and when he speaks his voice is quieter. "Feel better, alright?" he says, not sure how to say that he can't stand thinking that she's unwell without sounding foolish.

Madam Pomfrey will soon begin screeching if James doesn't leave, which is really a shame. It isn't often that she enjoys their time together. "I'll do my best," she promises. Then the Head Girl part of her mind surfaces. "If I'm still sick, could you get my homework assignments tomorrow?"

"It would be my delight and pleasure," he assures her. Even pale and unwell he can't help but thinking she is one of the beautiful creatures he has ever beheld. And his mind won't stop making up fantasies of him tending to her every time she gets ill in the future. Madam Pomfrey shoots him a look of pure venom and he bends down boldly to kiss her forehead. "Sleep well."

"'Night," she says. Having determined that the conversation is over, Madam Pomfrey leads her to a bed for healing, and Lily follows. She feels slightly bewildered, and very ill, but surprisingly content. Maybe James Potter isn't quite so bad after all.


End file.
